


The One With A Very Curious Angel And A Very Happy Snake

by Davechicken



Series: Angel & Snake [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), But lots of happy screwing is, Crowley Has Two Penises (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), F/M, Gender and body are not important, M/M, Other, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23315062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Aziraphale decides to share some thoughts on what new things they can try. And enjoy. And keep on enjoying.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Angel & Snake [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676680
Comments: 25
Kudos: 204





	The One With A Very Curious Angel And A Very Happy Snake

Aziraphale stretched lazily, enjoying feeling the little tingles of sweat along his skin. It had been a rather vigorous evening, and enjoyable. One calf was a little tight from the last fifteen minutes or so, and a roll of his ankle helped ease out the cricks. 

Crowley liked to pretend he wasn’t snuggly, right after, though the angel knew better. He would indulge both of their needs for afterglow by taking all the ‘blame’ for post-coital cuddles. That way, Crowley would ‘indulge’ him and not be forced to admit he needed them just as much. 

Angular arms, one propped under his head, the other draped around the angel’s shoulder, his fingers stroking meaningless sigils over his flesh. The slowly regularising rise and fall of the chest Aziraphale’s head rested on. The tiny hisses when he turned his head to (dare he say) devilishly kiss the nipple nearby.

Oh yes. His body hummed and thrummed, and his insides did that happy little bubble thing and his leg jiggled as he suppressed the urge to just… do tiny dances there, in their bed, in his demon’s arms.

“You know,” the angel said, his mind wandering off as it liked to do, “... I was almost surprised to find you only had one.”

“Had one… what?” 

Crowley, of course, needed a little prompting to the station to follow his train of thought, but normally once he got the ticket things ran on time after. “One of these.”

These, he indicated, by sliding a perfectly manicured nail over the still-sensitive flesh of his much-enjoyed dick. 

“...you _what_?”

“Well, with the eyes and the tongue… I had half fancied it might… run lower, too.” He pushed his head under his lover’s chin. 

“You think I need _two_?”

“Not need, my dear. I simply… oh, it’s a silly thought…” But one he’d entertained. And then invited back for afternoon tea the next day. And received thank-you notes on nice, embossed notepaper from. And…

“Angel…”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“Are - I mean - wouldn’t that be… uh…”

“It wasn’t a complaint. Merely an idle thought.” Or twenty. “I am perfectly happy with this. I would also be perfectly happy with… well, more.” 

‘This’ being the already well-used member he was now drawing little serpents of his own with, his nail scritching lightly at the vague trails of veins below the surface. 

“....eheh…” Crowley’s laugh was nervous, flighty.

He liked a little nerves in him. Without them, he wouldn’t be Crowley, after all. But it had to be the right amount of nerves, so he could function and just be adorably flustered and wriggly. Aziraphale nuzzled his nose under his jaw. “It’s alright. Truly. I very much enjoy your penis. But if you should ever want to… experiment… I am sincere when I say I love every inch of you.”

“Just that you’d like six more?”

“Six… seven…” 

Okay, maybe he was being a bit of a bastard. He rolled over, straddling Crowley, and folding his arms over his chest to peer up at him. 

“Maybe I could be convinced. Seems a bit of overkill.” He was warming to it.

“Why? You could last twice as long.”

“You could only - really sensibly - well I suppose you could fit both, but-- I mean, if you just wanted to keep going…”

“Or… both. Or… use both…”

“Like, in your hand?” Crowley’s brow furrowed. 

“Or other places.”

“You do _not_ bend that much, and if you did, I wouldn’t want to--”

“My dear boy, if you’re changing things up for a night… I might, also.” Aziraphale squirmed to make things move just so against other things. 

“Huh?”

“You always seem to enjoy when you’re more… receptive…”

He could _hear_ the blinking of those amber eyes. Hear. He was sure. 

“So you… mmm, might want to…?”

“If you would.” And judging by the firmness poking into his belly, Crowley very much did. 

Good. So it was settled.

***

Aziraphale decided that, for this, at least, she (oh and wasn’t that interesting) would take it slow and simple. To begin with. To see if it was as enjoyable as she hoped, and to make sure Crowley didn’t stress clean the varnish off all the wood on the bookshelves.

Also, she decided, it would be nice to have a slightly softer name. Zira worked. Crowley had used it before, occasionally, and it was close-but-not-too-close. 

She also decided that she’d like to be courted. So she suggested as much, and was delighted when Crowley dressed a little smarter and turned up with flowers and chocolates.

So delighted, in fact, that she threw her arms around his neck and gasped, “Oh, my dearest heart,” right in his ear, and forgot that she was supposed to be taken out for the night.

Crowley was delicious against her chest. The angel had always particularly enjoyed touches to - er - their? - yes, ‘their’ - chest, but right now it was infinitely better. Maybe it was the newness of it, or the anticipation, or simply the fact that there was more of her bosom to smush against him and have sensation in. She rocked her weight from heel to toe, feeling the awkward cross of chocolate-and-flower-holding hands behind her. 

“Angel…”

“I’m so happy to see you,” she enthused, and wondered if her cheek was always so soft, because she could feel every little bit of skin that touched her own, and the way it curled into a smile despite itself. 

“Dinner?”

“That sounds scrumptious,” she said, even though she had other things in mind.

***

Dinner went well, but distractingly so. Zira had happily gone to plenty of dinners when they’d been thinking about more than just food before. After all, their very first real ‘dinner’ date had been… Aziraphale inviting Crowley to some rather suggestive shellfish.

Without the bits already in situ, it had just been a frustrating feeling of wanting closeness and something emotional, too. But the more they’d been surrounded by images of love bound up in beds… of course Aziraphale had wondered.

And wondered.

And pondered, and considered, and contemplated, and become increasingly curious about. 

It was a pleasure, and pleasures were not (normally) wrong. And it was a pleasure that could also be emotionally connecting, and that most certainly couldn’t be (fundamentally, on the whole) wrong. 

So when things finally moved in the direction of tabs and slots and holding hands and holding other things, Aziraphale had eagerly wrapped their love of food and company up with this new course. You didn’t need it. It was like skipping the coffee course after a big meal. Still entirely enjoyable without it, and very tasty if you included it.

Having control (to some ethereal extent) over one’s things meant that he could enjoy the spreading, sharpening hunger, and could prevent it being too scandalously obvious. Eyes slid away from his groin (except Crowley’s) and he whipped his froth to a stiff point for later consumption. Or other, equally salacious figurative expressions. 

Today, with all new parts, it was like learning things all over. Like being introduced, for the first time, to spice when all you’d known was salt. 

Her body liked attention as much as it did when differently composed, but this was wider. The glance to her hand, fingers, wrist: that was all as electric as usual. But now, the way her nipples brushed inside the bustiere part of her dress was like serpentine kisses. 

And instead of a solid - hah - point… it felt like being slowly hollowed between the thighs. It felt like things were clutching, but only finding more of the same when they did. And like… like… every flicker of air in the room was a tiny touch, a tiny swipe of tongue, and it made her want to tilt her hips and bear down into the chair. 

Heavens, but it was… delightful. 

And worst of all was the not-knowing. Would Crowley really go along with this? Would he have the nerve? Would it feel as good as she’d been fantasising about? Was it wrong to want this, or to ask?

Every time she looked across to her dining companion, all she could see in the lines that poked from behind glasses was soft, aching, yearning. Lips that pulled in, to push back out. A throat that swallowed down the air. Hands that…

...one on her knee, pushing up… 

“I think I am rather stuffed,” Zira said, trying to look as sultry as she could. “Or, rather, I want to leave room so I still may be.”

Red, red cheeks. Zira used her own thighs to press her soft places together.

“I’ll get the bill.”

***

She had to keep him at bay, or they’d never get back to the flat. Even if…

...he could drive if she ran her hand up his thigh, right? He was a demon, and it wasn’t wicked of her at all. Even if it made him swerve at times.

Parked. And her face caught in one hand, as the other slammed between her thighs, pushing the fabric of the dress into her groin. 

“Did you want to crash, angel?”

“You didn’t.”

“I might have.”

“I have every faith in y---oooooohhhhhh!” 

Under the skirt of her dress, up to her thighs, fingers framing her lips and stroking down the fold in the middle. Very, very nice. She held onto his elbow, and bundled her fingers in the cloth of his shirt. 

She was leaking. Into the delicate underthings, she could feel the wetness, the way the cotton adhered a moment longer than each touch. How her inner muscles worked, easing the way, making her body ready. But he couldn’t (easily) fuck her here, and she really rather wanted to see what it would be like…

“Cr-rowley…”

“Let me.” He was nibbling her neck, now. Pointed teeth and forked tongue, lapping and teasing over her pulse. 

“But I------ _yes_...”

She grabbed at his shoulder, tilting and pushing, trying to get more force behind the fingers. It was a rising, rumbling fever like the clouds on the horizon, and she put her hand over his wrist, trying to urge more.

Awkward, here. And the angle and the fact they were simply parked out front of-- WAIT. Anyone could look in and-- “Crowley!”

“Just wanted to make sure you were still on board,” he smirked, and removed his hand.

She was sure it glistened.

***

Walking to the flat, she could feel the way her thighs touched. The silky glide of her tights stroking one another, and the faint touch of the air. Her eyes had been all over his trousers, trying to work out if he’d really gone along with this, but whenever she was sure she’d seen proof one way, it would shift moments later. 

The proof would be in the pudding.

Or, more than likely, in her.

His hand guided her by the small of her back, and she felt giddy. Not because he was being a ‘gentleman’ (gentledemon?), in how he treated ‘her’, as he did the same for ‘him’. It was just that the gesture itself was lovely, and his middle finger grazed down her spine and at the top of her buttocks and…

Inside the door, she was trying to decide if it was too forward to jump him, or if she’d rather be seduced, when apparently they both had the same idea and arms and hands were moving like they knew more than minds did, and she had a mouth that couldn’t do much more than gasp and nip toothlessly at the one that was doing the same to hers.

It was impossible to kiss passionately and be decorous. Either you trailed little dustings of icing sugar, or you slathered on frosting and enjoyed getting messy for a moment. And in the middle of it all, she found herself backed into a wall, with a knee between hers.

Normally this would lead to h- to him grinding his cock and balls, frotting and humping, but there was less external topography. And instead, she huffed at the way her lips seemed to not want to spread, and instead were touching one another. Which - nice - but the whole point of being with someone else was…

“Are you going to show me yours, and I show you mine?” she asked the demon who was currently running his deliciously doubled tongue over her clavicle.

“Mmm, I might be persssuaded…”

He was usually self-conscious about any sibilant slip, but Zira persevered, and a hand between his legs squeezed, and - well, yes, he had joined in. “Oh, oh my…”

“Well, you seemed disappointed in my…”

She pushed her fingers into the void between both, which was strangely erotic. Double the masculine appendage, but it left him with a middle, like she had, too. That would possibly also be very nice if she was masculine, too. She could imagine plenty of things to do with her - his - their - three. Later, she told herself. There was lots of time for later.

“Not disappointed,” she chided, and was gratified by how he nearly bent double under the pressure her fingers applied. “Are you disappointed when I have one, or none?”

“Nnnnn-no….”

“We have a genuine advantage, a wonderful thing. We can do anything we should like. And I would _very_ much enjoy sampling the whole menu.” She felt the panting at her throat, as Crowley held on tighter. “And I must say, when you marry a demon, you do so being _entirely_ happy with what that means.”

Zira felt the squawk, all the way through her bosom. And the hands that grabbed her ass, and forced her hips to tilt and made her aware of her opening even more. 

“A----ANGEL.”

“May I suggest we stop beating around the bush, and - perhaps - beat into it?”

It was filthy, and the laugh broke the tension, and Crowley nodded. 

***

In the bedroom, she stepped away to undress herself first. The shoes, the tights slid down (very clearly darker in the gusset now). She took delight in reaching behind her head to unzip her frock, because it gave her bosom a good stretch and she felt the eyes devouring her in the process. 

The dress fell neatly, after the hip-shimmy. Which she decided - as things wobbled eagerly - must still be seductive because Crowley was nearly biting his fist. Down came the straps of her bra, and then she unclasped and let her cleavage sway in front of her.

She felt - in all truth - like the women in so many great paintings. Like sculptures she had admired. Her preference for her existence had never been the like of strung, whippet-thin muscles over bones. She liked those on Crowley, very much so. He suited angles, and bending. She suited curves, and twisting. His bony hands looked stark and sure on her pillowy parts. 

Maybe she was soft. Who cared? It wasn’t unhealthy, and nor was he. They were just different, and she enjoyed looking at him, and he enjoyed looking at her. And she enjoyed him enjoying looking at her, so when she sat down slowly on the bed and then moved to recline, his gaze made her heart pulse all the harder. 

A hand on her tummy, and she just danced her fingers over the top of her curls, knowing any lower and she’d feel the stickiness of her interest. Where her hand was now, she’d be able to hold her cock, had she got one, and that did odd things to remember. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to…

...run two fingers, parted, over the outside of her lips. Press them together, then pull them apart. She wondered how much he could see, but then there were hands under her knees and a mouth between her legs, and she hardly had time to process what was going on before Crowley had his nose against her very sensitive spot, and a wet, sliding, stroking thing was touching right onto other wet, sliding, stroking things. 

Zira gasped, grabbing the soft, bright hair between her thighs, torn between riding that mouth and complaining that this wasn’t what was agreed upon. 

But maybe a) he was shy and b) it wasn’t so bad to let him eat her. After all, she’d said she wanted to try everything. And it was definitely a new sensation to have these parts be licked, or lips press and suckle, or fingers - OH YES RIGHT THERE!

How? How could he be so wise? Fine, so Crowley had been on the receiving end, but how could he know just that she liked under her clit grinding, or pressure spreading wide inside, or bending and stretching and opening her like she was designed to turn inside out? She didn’t even know it, but now he was slurping, and she was crying out, pulling him deeper against her, whining when the fingers just - FUCK - were NOT ENOUGH. Except they were. But it would take a million years! And she - just - 

“CROWLEY, IF YOU DO NOT PUT YOUR DICKS INSIDE ME RIGHT NOW!”

Crowley’s head lifted, and his lips were wet like he’d been glazed. His eyes almost all snake, tongue flickering to clean himself up. “If I put both in, you’re going to be sore,” he insisted. “Whichever places they go.”

“Just - augh! Stop teasing me, please?”

“Let me open you, at least, angel? Then I promise, I’ll give you what you want.”

Her juices weren’t really enough, biologically speaking, to work for lower down. She knew that, but she also could feel that he might be helping that along, which was fine. If you could decide what genitals to wake up with (or without), you could miracle up a little helping hand for… hands.

She took hold of his ears, and pulled him back between her legs. He didn’t complain, and his tongue alone worked light paths around---

“Are you writing the alphabet?”

“One of them,” came the muffled reply. “I know a few.”

It was ridiculous, and lovely, and as the finger swirled and probed lower… she angled her hips, planting her feet, letting him start the more familiar stimulus of her rump. 

The two were very different. She could feel how much tighter her rear hole was, and that gave her a giddy hope that the mix of sensations would be as good as she thought. The circling that eased at her pucker sent washes of hum and glow higher up, causing her vagina to clench uselessly around the tongue. She couldn’t get enough with such a slender thing, but… 

“It… might be easier if you roll, or if you’re on your side,” Crowley suggested. 

“...d-do you have a preference?”

“Start on your side, and we see?” he replied, slowly sitting back.

Still dressed. She stroked his shoulders, down his arms, and hitched one knee. She wanted to see, and when he didn’t oblige, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled herself up to an awkward sit. 

“May I?” she asked, and plucked at his shirt.

Worry, love, worry. All bundled up, and so precious. He felt vulnerable, and it made… it made her feel closer, oddly. Made her feel protective, and cherished, and special, and like she needed to run her fingers over his slowly-exposed chest.

He didn’t object when she pushed her hand to his belly, and undid the belt. Opened. Peeled. Pried. A precious jewel hidden in tightly-closed scallops. Wasn’t he supposed to be the male, not the Venus? Lower, and a finger stroked that middle space again, then pulled the first cock out.

Mostly what she was used to, but a little… less smooth. Near the base, there were bumps that felt like they’d be amazing. He breathed roughly, and when she used the back of her knuckles to graze the other as she stroked him… he pushed her onto her back, and then started to shimmy the trousers down and off.

They were pinker than usual, and angled, and those bumps… she licked her lips, and stroked the other like she had the first. Had to be fair. 

“Would you like me to move for you?” she asked, pushing them together and starting to stroke both at once, as best she could. 

Crowley nodded, almost glassy-eyed. 

Zira gave another tug, then pulled cushions into place and lay on her side, facing away. Knees bent a little, arm draped over waist. She pushed her butt back invitingly, and then eagerly felt the bed dip as Crowley moved to snugly push his groin to her butt. 

Yes. Very nice. It was a bit fussy, but she grabbed behind and found one cock, pushing the head until it slipped into her, and laying a palm to stop him sliding out. The other one nudged - with assistance - at her rear, and oddly it was a bit harder as it started to push because - ooooh yes - when it did, both did, and it felt like they were both reaching inside for the same point. Some things moved up, others moved down, and the whole area between her legs became a blurry, warm, stretchy, good thing. 

Mmmm. Nice. Yes. Nice. The lengths slid in, and pinched, and pressed, and damn but she needed more. Zira pressed harder on her sex, trying to grind the palm against - AH! Another hand, fingers around hers, rubbing and pushing as she was filled ever further. Could he feel himself? Did they sense the other, the tightness? Could they feel their mirror image through the walls dividing her?

The fingers on her clit - her own and her demon’s - worked harder, urging one another on. The steady pressure was maddening, and then there - there - FUCK but she felt something almost-hurt as it forced at her holes. Those bumps? Or - or - oh, oh it hurt but the hurt was good, and she arched her back to let them in deeper, and she chewed at the air that was suddenly so thick.

On, and on, and on. It was too much, but it never relented. It was so much, and her body clenched and worked and writhed. He was barely thrusting, but she gave all the movement they could possibly need. It wasn’t long strokes, but tensing, grinding, pushing… her insides clutching until her thighs shook, and her spine arching to change the angle and DAMN but something sparked right inside her rim, and under, and out, and below, and she couldn’t touch her clit any more, but he still was, and it was SO MUCH and he was most assuredly climaxing, because everything just…. s t r e t c h e d… over-full like a balloon, and he needed to stop touching her because she was crying and it didn’t let up, and every time she thought she’d found the peak, he kept rubbing and her body spasmed harder, harder, until it was DEFINITELY too much and FUCK YES CROWLEY YES RIGHT THERE RIGHT---

The bliss just… refused to die down. At all. It was… it was all hot, hot pulsing and those nobbly bits causing stabs of electricity. His body stimulating hers to keep the mating, the coupling going, so wide she felt she wouldn’t be able to push them out if she tried.

Pulse, pulse. How it didn’t leak down her thighs she didn’t know. It would when he pulled out, and maybe she shouldn’t be drifting so much with her demon locked into her, but he was kissing her nape, her cheek, and she just…

“Mmmmmn,” she purred, with all the intellect of a music box. Maybe less.

“S’good?”

“Don’t stop. Maybe not forever.”

“Sexual deviant.”

Zira smiled, and rolled her hips again. “Next time, you will just have to tie me up. Constrict me. You know…”

“...you will be the death of me, angel.”

“Perhaps. But what a death it will be.”

The pulsing slowed, but the cocks inside her showed no sign of fully deflating any time soon. She wriggled to feel the tug at her holes, and moaned at the sensation. 

“You… really want--- ANGEL!”

Apparently if she pushed her ass as far back as she could, at the same time as scrunching up everything inside, it made Crowley’s cocks spurt again. 

“Like I said, you will need to restrain me, demon. Or I might forget to behave.” 

Crowley’s arms held her tighter. Maybe he would put out, after all. 

“Mnnnnnh.” 

“You can rest tonight, or at least for now. But if you would like to wake me with a surprise any time soon…”

“Mnnnnnnh,” he said, yet again.

Yes, he probably would get precisely that.


End file.
